"I'd better go," she said.
"I mean you no harm, Sarah."
"I know, but… I'm not… I can't…" She stood up, her arms crossed over her breasts. "Good night."
He watched her walk away, and then he dissolved into a dark mist and followed her home. He stood in the shadows outside her house until he was sure she was safely inside. Only then did he turn away, hoping desperately that he would see her again.
She went to the park the next night, and the next, and the next, not knowing what it was about this strange man that drew her back to him night after night. She only knew that he seemed familiar somehow, that his very presence soothed her in some indefinable way.
Their relationship was a strange one. They sat side by side, rarely speaking, yet each drawing comfort from the other's presence.
After two weeks, Gabriel had decided their nightly encounters were destined to go on that way indefinitely, with the two of them meeting and not speaking; more than strangers, less than friends. And yet, for him, for now, it was enough. Meeting Sarah each evening gave purpose to his life, gave him something to look forward to.
And then she showed up late one night, her face whiter than new-fallen snow, her eyes shadowed and red, her whole demeanor one of abject despair.
Gabriel rose to his feet as she walked toward him, alarmed by her appearance. "Sarah, what is it?"
She stared up at him, her arms hanging limply at her sides. "It's July first," she said, her voice ragged.
Gabriel nodded, not comprehending.
"It would have been our fourth anniversary." Tears welled in her eyes and cascaded down her cheeks. "Natalie would have been two."
"Sarah…"
"Why?" She screamed the word at him. "Why did it happen?" Sobs shook her body as she pummeled his chest with her fists. "Why didn't we stay home that night? Why didn't I die, too?"
She hit him again and again, needing to vent her anger, to unleash the rage she had kept carefully bottled up for the past six months. And all the while she asked the same question over and over again: Why, why, why?
He had no answer, only stood there while her tightly clenched fists pounded against his chest and tears streamed down her cheeks, until she collapsed against him, like a puppet whose strings had been cut.
Murmuring her name, he swept her into his arms and cradled her against his chest, holding her effortlessly.
And still the tears came, with no sign of letting up.
Gabriel glanced around. There weren't many people wandering through the park at this time of night—a couple of kids pawing each other in the shadows, a vagrant snoring beneath a tree—yet Gabriel felt the need to get her inside, away from prying eyes.
Settling her more firmly in his arms, he started walking.
It took several minutes for Sarah to realize they were leaving the park. "Where are you going?"
"I'm taking you home."
"No! I can't go back there." She couldn't face that dark, empty house, couldn't face the memories that were waiting to engulf her. She shuddered, as though overcome with a chill. "Not tonight."
"All right."
She went limp in his arms, trusting him without knowing why, or maybe simply too emotionally wrung out to care what happened to her.
She closed her eyes, her cheek resting against his chest. Cool air feathered over her face as he walked along, his footsteps light and even, as if he were floating instead of walking. She seemed to hear his voice inside her mind, urging her to relax, to rest, assuring her that everything would be all right. And she believed him. It felt good to have someone taking care of her again, even if that someone was a stranger.
He'd gone only a few blocks when he felt the tension drain out of her and knew she'd fallen asleep.
It was a long walk to the mansion, but he carried her easily, using the power of his mind to cloak their presence as a police car drove by.
The door of the mansion opened at his bidding, then closed behind him. He carried her up the long, winding staircase and down the hall to the bedroom at the end of the spacious corridor.
She stirred as he bent over the bed to draw back the covers, her eyelids fluttering open, her brown eyes wide and bewildered as she looked up at him.
"Where are we?"
"You didn't want to go to your house, so I brought you to mine."
She knew a moment of gut-wrenching fear. For some reason, it had been easy to trust him out in the open, but here, in this unfamiliar room, she felt trapped, defenseless.
"No," she said, her voice too high, "I can't stay here."
His dark gaze held hers. "Go to sleep, Sarah," he said quietly. "You've nothing to fear."
And once again, she believed him without knowing why. She felt suddenly weightless, limp. Her eyelids fluttered down. She sighed once, and then she was asleep.
Gabriel stood at the foot of the bed, watching her for a long while. He seemed to have a habit of picking up orphans and strays, he thought ruefully, but there was something about this girl that called to him. Perhaps it was merely that her hair was the same color as Sara Jayne's had been. Or perhaps it was because this Sarah, too, was alone in the world. Whatever the reason, he felt an irresistible urge to comfort her.
Shortly before dawn, he drove to the all-night market and bought a variety of foodstuffs—an assortment of breakfast cereal, fruit, milk, instant coffee, tea, bread, butter, jelly, eggs, cheese. A jar of bubble bath that smelled like wildflowers, a bar of scented soap. A bottle of dark red wine.
Food had changed, too, he thought as he dumped a package of meat into the wobbly shopping cart. Bread came already sliced and neatly wrapped in plastic. Milk came in various-sized containers, though he couldn't remember seeing any cows in the vicinity. Not only that, but there were now all kinds of milk: low fat, no fat, whole, raw, homogenized. In his youth, there had been but one kind of milk, the kind that came straight out of the cow, unless one preferred the milk of goats.
He tried to remember what eating three meals a day had been like as he drove home; tried to remember the taste of bread, of butter, of eggs and cheese, as he carried the brown paper bags into the kitchen and began to put things away. But he had no recollection of tastes or textures, save for the vague memory of forcing himself to eat a meal Sara Jayne had prepared for him a century ago, and all he really remembered of that experience was going outside to vomit it back up.
He grinned wryly as he opened the refrigerator. He had lived in this place for three months and this was the first time he had used the refrigerator to hold anything other than an occasional bottle of wine.
The sun was climbing over the horizon when he made his way down the short flight of stairs that led to what had once been a wine cellar.
Opening the door, he stepped inside, then bolted the door behind him, wondering if she would still be there when he woke that evening.
Sarah woke with a start, the last images of her nightmare clinging like cobwebs to the corners of her mind. It had been a horrible dream, filled with blazing red eyes, fangs dripping blood, and the frantic sounds of her own screams. The kind of nightmare she would have expected to have after seeing
Interview with the Vampire
. Most shocking of all was that the dream, while frightening in its intensity and realism, had seemed vaguely familiar.
Sitting up, she glanced around at her surroundings. The bedroom was huge, bigger than her own bedroom and living room combined. The walls were papered in a pale rose print. There were heavy damask drapes at the windows. An antique mahogany armoire took up most of one wall. A matching vanity table and chair stood in a corner. She thought it odd that the mirror had been removed. A delicate crystal lamp stood on the nightstand on the left side of the bed. In another corner, two cozy chairs covered in the same rose print as the wallpaper faced each other across a small glass-topped table.
She remembered where she was now. Gabriel had brought her here late last night. Not surprising, then, that it had been his face she had seen in her dreams.
She glanced around, looking for a clock, wondering what time it was.
Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, she stood up. A thick mauve-colored carpet muffled her footsteps as she walked to the window and drew back the drapes. She stared at the crimson sunset for a moment, the flame-colored sky reminding her of blood. Impossible as it seemed, she had slept the day away.
Directly below, she could see a rose garden that had long been neglected. Tree-covered hills rose beyond the high brick walls that circled the mansion. There was an Olympic-size swimming pool to the right, a dark red barn off to the left. A big black horse stood hip-shot in the adjacent corral.
Whoever Gabriel was, he had money. Turning away from the window, she let the curtains fall back into place and came face to face with the man who had haunted her dreams not only last night, but for the past three weeks, as well.
"Good evening," he said formally.
"Hi."
He was dressed in black again, and though he looked roguishly handsome, Sarah couldn't help wondering if he owned anything besides black T-shirts and jeans. Thinking of his attire made her acutely conscious that she had slept in her clothes, that she hadn't brushed her teeth since yesterday morning, that she needed a shower.
"The bathroom's in there," Gabriel said, indicating a closed door to her left.
It was disconcerting, his being able to read her thoughts so easily. She had a childish impulse to stamp her foot and tell him to stop it.
"Enjoy your bath." He left the room on silent feet— bare feet, she noticed, with some surprise.
For a moment, she stared after him; then she went into the bathroom. It was unlike anything she had ever seen. The last rays of the setting sun filtered through the skylight. The walls were papered in the same print as the bedroom. An oversized pink bathtub, oval in shape, stretched across one wall; the fixtures were gold. There was an enclosed shower, a pale pink toilet, two sinks, also pink. She found a fluffy white towel and a washcloth folded on the marble sink top, along with a bar of scented soap, a tube of toothpaste, and a toothbrush.
After locking the door, she turned on the water, then stripped off her clothes while she waited for the tub to fill. Noticing a jar of bubble bath, she sprinkled some into the water, watching as millions of rainbow-hued bubbles rose to the surface.
Feeling like a queen, she turned off the tap and sank down into the water, sighing as the bubbles surrounded her with a light flowery fragrance.
She thought it strange that were no mirrors in the bathroom, not even on the beautiful carved medicine cabinet. She wondered if he had some kind of phobia about seeing his reflection.
Closing her eyes, she let her thoughts drift. Who was Gabriel? Why was he taking care of her? Did he live here alone? If so, what was he doing with floral bubble bath and scented soap? If not, where was his wife or girlfriend?
She soaked in the tub until the water grew cool, washed quickly, then stepped out of the tub and wrapped herself in the fluffy bath sheet, wishing she had a change of clothing and underwear.
Returning to the bedroom, she saw that her clothes were gone; in their place was a dressing gown of deep rose pink velvet.
She experienced an odd sense of déjà vu as she ran her hand over the rich material, thinking it had probably cost more than her entire wardrobe. She looked around and then, unable to resist, she put it on. It felt wonderful against her skin, light and soft. Luxurious and expensive.
She had just zipped it up when there was a knock at the door.
"Sarah?"
"Yes."
"Would you care to come downstairs and have a glass of wine?"
"Yes, thank you."
She opened the door to find him standing in the hall, dressed in the same form-fitting jeans and T-shirt as before. She glanced at his bare feet. There was something incredibly intimate about the fact that neither of them was wearing shoes. The thought brought a quick flush to her face.
An emotion she couldn't put a name to flickered in Gabriel's dark gray eyes before he turned away. Thick white carpet muffled her footsteps as she followed him down the stairs, through another hall, and into a large, high-ceilinged room.
She glanced around the room while he poured two glasses of wine. An enormous marble fireplace took up one entire wall. Flames danced and crackled in the hearth. A huge crystal chandelier reminiscent of one she'd seen in a play hung from the ceiling. The carpet beneath her feet was the same white plush that covered the hallways.
White carpeting
, she thought, and wondered absently how he kept it clean. Dark green drapes covered the windows.
There was no furniture in the room save for an antique oak side table, one overstuffed easy chair covered in a dark green print, and a big-screen TV.
A graceful archway opened onto an entry hall inlaid with black marble.
Gabriel studied her face as he handed her a glass filled with dark red wine. He sensed her nervousness at being alone with him in the house, and wondered what he could say to put her at ease.
Sarah murmured her thanks as she accepted the wine. She glanced around the room again, wondering why there were no pictures on the walls, no mirrors, no clocks. There was, in fact, nothing of a personal nature in the room. "Have you… have you lived here long?"
"A few months."
"It's a lovely house."
Gabriel shrugged. He had bought the mansion shortly after his arrival in Los Angeles. He had been unimpressed when the real estate agent told him it had once belonged to a very famous but reclusive movie star. He had bought the house on a whim simply because the design and the gardens had reminded him of a villa he had once owned in Italy.
"Are you married?" Sarah asked.
"No."
She didn't miss the deep sadness, the loneliness, that clung to that single word.
"Divorced?"
"No."
"Living with someone?"
He frowned. "No, why do you ask?"